


Formal Wear

by lha



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Breakfast, Kilts, M/M, Negotiations, Wedding, formal wear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 21:08:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16103837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lha/pseuds/lha
Summary: Mycroft & Greg have been invited to a wedding.  Queue negotiations about appropriate formal wear.





	Formal Wear

“No Gregory, categorically not,” Mycroft said, not looking up from the file he was reviewing at the breakfast table.

“Yes,” he said with a smile, pouring the fast of the coffee into Mycroft’s cup. “It absolutely is going to happen and I am happy to tell you why.” Gregory was clearly relishing this, pausing to help himself to more fruit from the bowl sitting between them. “One; I have never worn a kilt and I want to. Two; I am certain that my husband is going to look spectacular in a kilt. Three; It’s Anthea’s wedding and she’s asked her guests to wear them.” He gestured to the invite that was lying on the table.

“Encouraged,” Mycroft said absently, striking through an entire paragraph of waffle and replacing it with a concise sentence. “ _Guests are encouraged to wear kilts._ She really is incorrigible.”

“She’s marrying a scotsman Myc, it’s not unreasonable for him, or other guests to be wearing kilts”

“I have not one ounce of Scottish blood in me and you have less.”

“It doesn’t say we have to be Scottish we’re simply dressing in solidarity with Alistair.”

“I don’t suppose you have any idea how difficult it is to source authentic Scottish formal wear in London?”

“That is the worst excuse I think I have ever heard from you. You could get Saville Row suit in the arctic. You can source us kilts.”

“You really are quite determined about this aren’t you?” he asked, replacing the cap on his pen and removing his reading glasses.

“I am. Really very quite determined.” Gregory was wearing that look of childlike enthusiasm that Mycroft was entirely unable to resist.

“Hmmm… You will allow me to choose an appropriate tartan?” he asked, arching an eyebrow in challenge.

“I don’t think that they have that great a selection at the hire places…” he began before correcting himself. “Oh who am I kidding….”

“Gregory, I do not wear garments other people have worn. Particularly when they may have neglected to don underwear beneath them.”

“You wear my pyjama bottoms…”

“That is a lone and very special exemption to an otherwise very firm rule. Besides, I am already intimately familiar with what resides inside your underwear.” Lifting his coffee cup, he attempted to hide the twitch of his lips. “I will have someone come and take the appropriate measurements and provide a sample book of tartans.” He’d also have to take advice on the appropriate jackets, a wedding was not a black tie occasion so...

“See, you’re going to enjoy this aren’t you,” Greg said with an open smile.

“Perhaps,” Mycroft conceded.

“You will, and I’ll enjoy getting to see you all dressed up, and finding out what it feels like to wear a kilt. Besides Anthea will be delighted. And there will be a bottle of Laphroaig 30 on the table just for us.”

“Really?” Mycroft asked, with another pointed eyebrow raise. There were many things about Mycroft’s lifestyle that Gregory tolerated with good grace, and some he even enjoyed but often he prefered the simple things. That said, Gregory no longer tolerated blended whisky and had developed something of a passion for the older Islay malts.

“Anthea offered me a small incentive,” Gregory said, looking remarkably pleased with himself.

“So, if you convinced me to wear a kilt she will buy you a bottle of whisky?”

“A rare, expensive bottle. Yes.”

“You do know that you are more than welcome to buy anything your heart desires Gregory?”

“Yeah but it’s not the same,” he said with a grin.

“So you would have me spend significantly more on formal wear, than it would cost to simply acquire the whiskey?”

“The whiskey is just the cherry on the cake, Myc. I _really_ want to see you in a kilt.”

“Is that so?”

“Now you’re just teasing,” Gregory said with a faux pout. “I’ll share the whisky?”

“I should hope so. Now, I’ll send this file back to the office and barring catastrophes the rest of the day is ours.”

“Is that right?” Gregory asked, his voice low in response to Mycroft’s own suggestion.

“Mmm,” he said, spearing the last strawberry from the bowl in the middle of the table.

“Think there’s some of that ice-cream you like left in the freezer…”

“... and you’re due me a favour?”

“Always happy to pay in advance. I’m warning you now though, I’m taking pictures before the wedding, at the wedding, after the wedding…”

“We’ve spoken before about the fact that wool and sex are not good bedfellows.”

“And yet…”

“As ever you are the root of almost every exception in my life Gregory dearest.”

“It is a shame,” Gregory said wistfully standing up and moving the empty plates across to the sink. “It was a lovely suit. That said, kilts come with easy access…”

“I suppose there are advantages,” Mycroft agreed.

“Second breakfast?” Gregory said, hand on the handle of the of the freezer door.

“Only if it’s in bed,” Mycroft said, messaging for a car to take the documents to whitehall. 

“Two deals done and it’s barely nine-thirty on a Sunday morning.”

“I am nothing if not efficient,” Mycroft agreed, pulling his husband in for a gentle probing kiss. “And entirely at your mercy.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you've enjoyed this little piece of nonsense and I'd love to hear your thoughts!  
> Thanks for reading,  
> Lx  
> @LHA_again  
> 


End file.
